The Dragon, the Traitor, and the Prisoner
by Small-Time Insanity
Summary: After the disagreement between two biased young men, they reunite again... only on more morbid circumstances.


**The Dragon, the Traitor and the Prisoner**

A few years ago, two young men by the names of Hadvar and Ralof had a disagreement that led to a temporary peace treaty between their families. Today, they will meet again.

A young Imperial soldier rode on his horse behind two carriages filled with Stormcloak prisoners, including Ulfric Stormcloak, their leader. They were travelling to Helgen for their execution.

The gates of Helgen opened. A gaunt but safe city awaited them all, surrounded by stone barracks and towers.

The soldier got off his horse and approached a woman wearing heavy Imperial armour.

"Legate Rikke," he said respectfully, nodding to her.

The Imperial woman nodded back. "Hadvar," she said in a bored voice.

"This is a good result," said Hadvar, looking over at the prisoners exiting the carriages.

"Indeed," said Rikke. "And we even got Ulfric…I'm amazed he didn't have many _bodyguards _with him this time."

"Same here," said Hadvar. "Where is General Tullius?"

"Talking to the executioner, I expect. He's rather impatient to send Ulfric straight to the halls of Sovngarde." She laughed light-heartedly.

Sovngarde is like the heaven of Skyrim. Most Nords hope that when their twilight years are gone, they will go and spend their afterlife celebrating in the halls of Sovngarde.

"Hadvar, Rikke. You two will sign off this carriage," said General Tullius. He is the leader of the Imperial Legion of Skyrim, assigned by Emperor Titus Mede II himself.

Hadvar was given a board with a piece of paper stuck to it, and an inked quill. The prisoners were off the carriage now. He started calling out the names.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm."

A tall, fair haired man wearing fine clothes stepped forward and walked to join his soldiers lined up in front of the chopping block.

"Ralof of Riverwood," Hadvar called, surprised.

Ralof stepped forward. He had changed since the last time Hadvar saw him – more scars on his face and arms, and there was an air of superiority about him as he walked.

"Imperial bastard," Ralof snarled at Hadvar as he walked past, glaring.

"Just keep walking," hissed Rikke.

Hadvar returned to the list. "Lokir of Rorikstead."

A panicked man stepped forward desperately. "No, I'm not one of them, you can't do this!" And then he ran for the hills.

"Halt!" shouted Rikke.

"You're not gonna kill me!"

"Archers!"

Three arrows pierced Lokir through the back. He dropped to the ground like a fly in the heat.

Hadvar looked at the last prisoner. She was a Nord; there was no doubt about that. She had the pale skin, deep blue eyes and fair hair of most Nords. But she wasn't wearing the blue and brown Stormcloak Cuirass. Instead, she wore a roughly spun tunic and foot wraps.

Hadvar looked at the list again. "This can't be right," he thought. "You there," he said aloud, "step forward."

The woman stepped forward nervously, looking around the village of Helgen with a worried expression.

"Who are you?" asked Hadvar.

"Lilly-Anna," she said quietly. "I come from Dawnstar."

Hadvar sighed. "You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, Kinsman." He looked to Rikke. "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."

Rikke was obviously impatient for all of this to finish. "Forget the list. She goes to the block."

"By your orders," Hadvar said sullenly.

The woman, Lilly-Anna, sighed sadly, looking over at the chopping block.

"I'm sorry," said Hadvar genuinely. "At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the captain, prisoner."

He followed Lilly-Anna and Rikke into the crowd around the chopping block, where General Tullius was addressing Ulfric.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," he said loud and gruffly. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder their king and usurp his throne!"

Ulfric growled through the mouth gag around his mouth. The Voice was the ancient power called the Thu'um. In the Dragon Tongue, the Thu'um is the most powerful kind of ancient Nordic magic known to mortals. Ulfric had the gag around his mouth so he couldn't use the Voice to escape his death.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

A loud roar erupted through the land suddenly. Everyone looked around wildly; they couldn't see where it came from.

"What was that?" said Hadvar.

"It's nothing," said General Tullius. "Carry on."

Rikke nodded. "Yes, General Tullius. Give them their last rights."

A priestess stepped forward and raised her hands to the crowd. "As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-"

"For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with!" hissed the executioner.

"As you wish," said the priestess bitterly.

A Stormcloak prisoner walked towards the block. Rikke pushed him down onto the ground, the prisoner's head facing towards the executioner.

The executioner raised his blood-stained axe, swung, and the Stormcloak's head rolled off its body and into a basket.

There were cries of anger from the Stormcloak's comrades.

"You Imperial bastards!"

"You'll all pay for this!"

"Cowards!"

Rikke blinked, looking away from the headless body with a sickly expression. "Next, the Nord in the rags!" she called out.

Once again, something roared from a distance.

"There it is again, did you hear it?" said Hadvar, looking worried.

"I said, _next prisoner!_" snapped Rikke.

"Walk to the block prisoner, nice and easy."

Lilly-Anna walked towards the block, her face set like stone, not showing any emotion. She stared at the block for a moment, and then Rikke pushed her down.

Hadvar looked away, angry. This woman, he was certain, was innocent. And yet, she's being slaughtered like a lamb! It wasn't fair. When he looked at the Stormcloaks, he saw an arrogance that only they can carry; Lilly-Anna had no arrogance whatsoever. In fact, she spoke rather politely.

"What in Oblivion was that!?" shouted General Tullius.

Big, jet black and with glaring red eyes, a beast from old tales and legends was perched on the tower behind the executioner. Its scales were black as night, and its size was as big as a mountain. A spear tipped, spiked tail flicked irritably.

"Dragon!" cried a townswoman from the porch of her house.

The dragon opened its mouth and made a loud noise, louder than thunder. The Thu'um created large fireballs raining from the sky, along with rocks, hitting Helgen like a tsunami.

"Guards, get these towns' people to safety!" General Tullius ordered.

Hadvar was in a frozen trance. Trying to shake it off, he accidentally fell over a fallen piece of the tower and was easily a weak target for the dragon. His leg was bleeding; there was a large wound, made by the fallen stone.

Suddenly, he was being pulled out of sight and into the Helgen Keep, where the soldiers slept and interrogated prisoners. He was propped up onto a chair, and as he looked up to see who was there, he was both relieved and surprised.

"Stay still, I'm trying to bandage your leg," said Lilly-Anna.

Hadvar winced as Lilly-Anna tightened the linen cloth around his thigh. "You know, I thought I would have found you face down in the mud."

Lilly-Anna pursed her lips, frowning. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm no weakling."

"I never said you were," Hadvar said defensively.

"Hmph. I'll take your word for it then…for now." A loud roar made the ceiling shake. "But for now, let's just worry about getting out alive."

Hadvar had regained his strength. She must be a healer, he thought. His leg wasn't sore at all. "You better find some armour, and a sword. There might be a spare scout's armour lying-"

"I'm not wearing the Legion's armour," she said coldly. "I'll make do with this."

She had pulled out a decently smithed hide outfit. The armour, boots and bracers were all made from animal skins – not the best protection one can have in a real fight.

"You support the rebels, then?" Hadvar asked, disapproval colouring his tone clearly.

Lilly-Anna shook her head, a faint smile appearing. "I support no one. Not the Empire, nor the Stormcloaks." She had put on the armour and had found an iron sword, strapping it to her belt.

"We should get going."

Hadvar knew the way out, from the many times he was stationed in Helgen and the rest of the Falkreath hold. He led Lilly-Anna through the darkened fort, and after an hour of trekking through a large, crumbling fort, they reached the surface.

They were outside now. A tunnel had led them into the cold, pine tree infested wilderness just outside of Helgen. Hadvar looked over at Lilly-Anna. She had the look of a woman who was clearly happy to be alive.

"Get down!" hissed Lilly-Anna suddenly, pushing Hadvar down behind a rock and ducking.

The black dragon was flying directly over them, its wide wings carrying it higher into the clouds.

They both got up, looking around them carefully, as if they expected another dragon to attack.

"Thank you," said Hadvar.

Lilly-Anna stared. "For what, exactly?" she asked.

"You didn't have to help me back there," Hadvar pointed out.

"I know," she said emotionlessly. "But I decided that you aren't as bad as the rest of _them_."

"I'm glad," said Hadvar, laughing. He looked at her seriously, examining her appearance. She obviously didn't have any money. "What will you do now?"

She shrugged, looking at a fox running past. "I don't know," she said.

"You could return to Dawnstar," he suggested. "You must have family there?"

"All my family are dead," Lilly-Anna sighed. "It can be dangerous, working down in the mines."

Hadvar and Lilly-Anna walked down the road. Riverwood wasn't too far from Helgen. "My uncle's a blacksmith in Riverwood."

"And?"

"Maybe he can help you," Hadvar told her. "Him and his wife, Sigrid, they're nice people."

Lilly-Anna shook her head, kicking a rock. "I'm not a charity case, Hadvar."

Hadvar sighed, frustrated with her. Were all Nord women like this? Or is it just her being stubborn? He had no idea. "I know that," he said, his words sounding slightly harsh with frustration.

"I'm sorry," Lilly-Anna said reluctantly, twirling a strand of messy blonde hair around her fingers. "It's just a bit…strange for me. Being sent to my death by soldiers and then being helped by one a few moments later."

"I understand that," said Hadvar. "But still, my uncle and aunt can help you; supply you with some decent armour, food, that sort of thing."

"Oh, I didn't think of that," she said, going bright pink. She seemed embarrassed now. "Well, I guess I can come along to your uncle's. I have nothing else planned."

And so Lilly-Anna travelled to Hadvar's uncle's home in Riverwood. She got her supplies and some new iron armour from Alvor, and then left for the city of Whiterun.

Hadvar stayed with his family for a bit. But after a while, he left for Castle Dour, in Solitude. He vowed to his uncle, aunt and little cousin that he'll return from the war safely, and with Ulfric's blood on his sword.


End file.
